Unnatural History Season 1: Henry's POV
by BigTimeRoboticsChick
Summary: I decided to be write the first season from Henry's perspective. I LUFFED this show and am really sad it's off air now. Come on in! The story's great


_Hey! My name's Rosie, I'm your author, and this is my take on Unnatural History: Season 1. I'm new to writing and considering the show's in third person perspective, I thought it might be cool to write Season 1 from another character's perspective._

_Henry's an interesting kid and I feel he's definitely the character that has to go through the most change in the show. Whether that change be related to culture shock or solving mysteries, Henry goes through a lot. Either way, he's my favorite character. So, I decided to write this fic in his point of view._

_I don't know about you, but I __**adored**__ this show and was seriously upset when it was not picked up for a second season. With that said, I would love you forever and always if you could go to: _ pages/DVD-Release-of-Unnatural-History-Season-One/183490668333917?ref=ts&fref=ts

_and tap that like button __**HARD**__ (jokes jokes (no but seriously)). The writing, the actors, and editing are so awesome and I would love own a copy of the season to support them!_

_I hope you enjoy the story and hit me up via PM if you have any questions!_

_❤Polka Dots, Stripes, and Toothpaste Kisses❤_

_Rosie_

* * *

I knew I was in trouble when I heard squawking. The birds in Bhutan don't start making noise until after the sun rises above the trees. So this meant three things:

1) It was past 8 am.

2) I've missed morning meal.

3) I'm already late to meditation.

I open my eyes to a bright midmorning light and immediately pounce onto my feet. Praying at most had missed stretches; I grab my yellow _gho_ from the peg on the wall and slipped it over my head. I snatch the red _kera_ band from off the floor and dash out of the hut.

I run as fast as I could down the mountain path, ignoring the painful rocks that jab into my feet. When I finally get to the Koi Bridge, I have my _kera _tied off and see that Monk Sakya, the apprentices' teacher, was already midway through exercises with the other students.

I jump the shrub barricade, connecting the temple pathway to the bell dojo, and join the rest of my fellow apprentices on the mat.

I follow in line with the regular movements as Sakya speaks on.

"The Buddha has taught us that a focused mind, one that has obtained _Samma Sammadhi_, is like an eagle soaring in the sun; able to go anywhere, achieve anything. But, a mind without focus is like a moth in a monsoon; it achieves nothing."

Sakya stops his morning lecture with a new comment. "Tardy boys must prove their worthiness for a place on the mat."

I look up at Sakya and see the disappointment and annoyance in his eyes. I know there was no point in thinking Sakya wouldn't point me out, but I hoped wouldn't do it again. He motions me forward, with a flick of his hand.

I step up facing him and look down at my feet. I try to center myself as I take a deep breath, but my stomach growls; leaving me unbalanced.

I start our practice duel sequence with him. Punch left, punch right, tiger claw, punch, punch, arm jab, punch left, punch right, punch right past the ear –

**POW.**

I felt a hard kick to my stomach and feel myself flying backwards. My back hits the ground and I slid, eventually stopping when my head hits the gong with a loud _Donnnnggg._ The sound echoes across the temple.

_Ow._

I half smirk, half grimace at myself for being so stupid _again_ and rub my head as I get up.

"Next drill", calls Sakya, "High chi, up!"

He opens a woven basket full of moths that slowly diffuse themselves across the mat.

"Concentrate, because tomorrow the best of you will be doing this with only your fingertips." I pull out my chopsticks as Sakya continues, "Catch, but not kill".

I catch a moth in between the two wooden sticks, feeling accomplished until Sakya walks over.

"What is unclear about the word: kill?" he asks, motioning down to the moth in between my extended fingers. I look down at the motionless moth.

"A thousand apologies, your Holiness, for my youthful failings." I say, trying to sound as convincing as I can.

"Apologize to the moth and its crushed thorax, not to me." I look down at the small creature, genuinely feeling bad. For my carelessness I've taken its life. Sakya pulls me to the side of the mat and bluntly states, "Henry, you have many gifts, but they mean little without impulse control, discipline, and the tools to use them wisely."

I try to cut him off, "And from now on, I promise to follow the three noble truths."

_Was it three or four? Suffering, craving, stress, and….?_

"Four noble truths", he corrects.

_That's right. Concentration._

Sakya's assistant leans over and whispers in his ear. Sakya nods and returns his gaze to me.

He glowers at me and says, "And a promise is just a word, when it arrives too late; as you are about to learn." His head turns towards the Koi Bridge, where I see two familiar faces: my Mom and Dad.

* * *

My father hugs me tightly, I feeling that I had thought I'd forgotten being at the monastery for five months. The monks teach us that craving for objects that provide pleasant feelings is forbidden, so when my father switches out for my mother's turn for a hug, I'm not sure if it's acceptable for me to hope that they're taking me with them when they leave.

Instead I ask, "Aren't you supposed to be in the Shivalik Hills for another month?"

My father's expression turns stern as he leans down to open his backpack. "Never mind about us. What have you been up to since we've left?"

_Uh oh. Busted._

I decided to play it cool. "I mean nothing unusual."

My mother sighs and motions to me saying "Take off your robe."

My glance quickly goes from my mother to my father and back again. "W-Why?" I ask innocently, while underneath my panic grows.

"Just do as your mother asks", my father commands.

I sigh knowing the charade is up. I untie my _kera_, toss it to the ground, and pull the _gho _my head slowly.

My mother gasps as she looks at my two blue stitched wounds. "Where have you been?" she exasperates.

"I went out for a hike", I say bluntly.

"Alone. Without permission, when you were supposed to be _in class_." Dad emphasizes the last two words.

My mother is a stout, blonde woman. She's physically fit, but at the same time graceful. She's caring and thoughtful and has no problem speaking her mind; an ability that comes especially handy when reprimanding me. My father on the other hand is tall and lean, 6'4 probably 180 pounds dripping wet. He's has close to shoulder length brown hair, a thin moustache and goatee. They both love to play by the rules, even though they look like they could pass as a pair of 60's hippies who never grew up.

"I thought being out with nature might… best illuminate the wisdom which lights the way to… you know, the path to enlightenment!" I try and argue.

"Henry", my mother scolds, "cut to the chase". The problem with my parents and I is that we know each other far too well. This means they know my antics, more than I do.

"Ok!" I sigh. "I went looking for those missing hikers, and I was attacked."

"Attacked by what?" my mother questions.

"A yeti." (You've got to admit it does sound cooler.)

The pair opposite from me rolls their eyes and sputter.

"Ok! Fine! So it was a yack! But who knew herbivores could be so vicious? There was plenty of room on that mountain ledge for the both of us!"

"That's right. And there's going to be plenty of room for you _on the plane_." My mother informs.

"Plane? What do you mean … plane?"

* * *

Before I know it, I'm already sitting the back of a beaten up dirty white military jeep. All of my belongings had already been packed, unbeknownst to me, in two duffel bags that are sitting at my feet.

"You can't be serious!" I plead, hoping none of this was true.

"You took off again," my father indicated. "On a mission that clearly was none of your business," he slows down adding, "and you nearly got killed."

"But I found the hikers! And I'm fine." l state looking at my mother trying to convince her.

"Henry, you've lived everywhere else in the world. It's time to go home."

"Washington D.C.? How is that home? Those people can't even vote! This is totally unfair and I have done nothing to deserve it!"

"This is hard for us too." Dad states. His eyes show guilt, making me feel bad. I look down at my hands. I've known that they always wonder if I've been brought up right, considering the life that we have. "You need better role models than your mother and I, Henry."

"But, Uncle Bryan and Jasper? I have nothing in common with them."

"We only want what's best for you, sweetheart. Uncle Bryan is the principal of the best high school in the country!"

"What's so best about it?" I challenge. Nothing could even compare to the life I've had.

"It's a part of the National Museum Complex."

"Ok well, Dad even said it: A museum is just a zoo," I quote. "Except, everything inside is already dead. No thanks, I belong outdoors."

My parents exchange telepathic messages with each other and then look to me again.

"Remember, Dante is in D.C. If you need anything, a friend, someone to talk to, your godfather is there for you, ok?"

I nod at my dad. "Ok," I mumble.

I climb down from the Jeep and give my parents two last hugs. Though I know it's not the last time I'll be seeing them, but considering I don't know when our next meeting will be I still feel sad.

My mom strokes my face and says "I love you".

"I love you too" I state.

"Oh!" she exclaims. "I almost forgot." She hands me an envelope the reads "Henry" in a long blue scrawl. "This is from Dante."

I put the letter in the large pocket of my backpack. I climb into the Jeep just before the engine starts. Before I even get properly situated the car starts to roll forward and before I can even wave to my parents, we've turned the bend and they're already gone.

* * *

I have the whole car ride from the monastery to Thimphu (4 hours), a flight from Thimphu to Los Angeles (24 hours), and another flight from Los Angeles to D.C. (8 hours) to think about_ everything_.

Some of these topics include _why, what_, and _how_.

_Why did my parents decide to ship me off now?_ I'd always been involved in my own shenanigans. Doing crazy things that got me into trouble was pretty much my specialty. Why didn't they send me off earlier at an earlier age to some reform school at an acceptable age, like when I was 12? Why now?

I've lived in almost every country in the world thanks to my anthropologist parents, but never the granddaddy of them all: America. I've watched a couple of TV shows in airports and via my parents laptop, but if there's one thing I've learned while culture hopping it's you should never trust its television shows to be like its reality. I've never been to America. _What will it be like?_

And finally _how_. I haven't seen Jasper or Uncle Bartlett in over 6 years. I only spent a few days at their house for a summer party when I was 11. I don't remember much, but I do remember Jasper and I didn't get along too well and Uncle Bartlett wasn't the happiest guy. _How would things be different?_

* * *

Stepping outside of Dulles International Airport, my first impressions of America are few but potent. America is very populated, with people of many skin tones and bright flashy clothing. Americans also aren't as open and friendly as _Saved By The Bell _made them out to be. Most were rather hostile and annoyed when I approached them for directions to where the baggage claim was.

Everything is covered in a specific layer of of filth, a brown layer of gunk, that I suspected came from thousands and thousands of cars' exhaust pipes.

The world around me is loud, crammed, and unwelcoming.

I sit down on my duffle bags with a huff. My mother told me that a cab would arrive to pick me up at 11:30 am. Looking at my watch, I note that the time is only 5 minutes away.

I hadn't eaten much during the time I landed in Los Angeles to now. I don't know how to exchange currencies and I'm pretty sure America doesn't accept _ngultrums_, so I held out until now_._ I open my backpack hoping to find an energy bar or some kind of sustenance to hold me over, but instead see Dante's letter.

I grab it and rip the cover open. The letter itself is front and back only two pages long. It reads:

_**Dear Henry,**_

_**I understand you may be moving back to a country, you barely know. If true, you must have done terribly upsetting to your parents and I can't wait to hear every outrageous detail. My life has taken a surprising turn as well. Henry, I've made an astounding discovery. Something so very very very close to my heart, I can't imagine sharing it with everyone. But, you'll be the first. Even if America seems a bit mundane, you still have me to get into all sorts of adventures with. So, don't despair over the move, my boy. As Martin Luther King said, "Faith is taking the first step, even when you don't see the whole staircase" –**_

"Hey, Henry?"

I look up to the sound of my name to see a man coming toward me, waving. He greets me and says his name is Ralph. Ralph takes one of my bags and I pick up the other.

"Hey, no need to do that kid. Let me do my job."

Instead, I hand the bag to him and he throws it in the back of the taxi cab with my other bag. When I ask Ralph how he knew my name he says, "Well your mom told me on the phone ya woulda had some sort of tribal style goin' on." Not knowing what he meant, I quickly dismissed it and let the cab drive unfold.

Washington D.C. is a pretty place once you get past the airport. The highways branch over one another, while housing complexes fall underneath. Once you get into the city itself, it's mostly large business buildings, government facilities, and monuments with well-kept green lawns. The transition from summer to fall makes the air pleasant.

Ralph and I finally make our stop at James Smithson High School, the gate outside labels the building as so.

Ralph places my bags on the sidewalk next to me. I shake his hand and give him is tip. He gets back into his car and waves me off as I take my first steps into the urban jungle.

**End of Chapter 1.**


End file.
